


Through Hell or High Water

by Ecchi_Skecchi



Series: The Future is Ours [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Blood and Injury, Comfort, F/M, Hair Washing, Late at Night, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:29:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29843589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ecchi_Skecchi/pseuds/Ecchi_Skecchi
Summary: Mukuro Ikusaba walked out of Fenrir as the Ultimate Soldier, unmatched by any other. But there are some things that no soldier can really walk away from. War is hell.
Relationships: Ikusaba Mukuro/Naegi Makoto
Series: The Future is Ours [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2193990
Comments: 11
Kudos: 24





	Through Hell or High Water

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Welcome to the second story of "The Future is Ours"! This is a collection of interconnected oneshots that I felt would be better to publish as a series. So if you read this, you should check out the other interconnected ones!
> 
> TW: PTSD

Mukuro ducked and weaved among the rocks of the Afghan mountains, trying to dodge bullets of the rebel fighters. She’d been assigned to a new patrol, which was moving through one of the more dangerous passes in the area. Even only a few klicks from Fenrir’s base camp, fighters still found it fit to attack its soldiers. 

She threw herself behind a large boulder with a helmeted fellow mercenary. She hadn’t really interacted with most of the men in this unit, but there was something familiar about him. Despite not being able to see his face, there was something about the way his body looked, the way he held himself, just the way he was. 

“We have to get closer to the ridge. Lay down suppressing fire!” Mukuro called out over the gunfire. The mercenary nodded, waiting for a break in the gunfire. There was just something about him that kept nagging at her. “Who-” she started, but the gunfire let up for a moment. Quickly, the mercenary poked his head around the side of the rock and began to fire back. 

Mukuro took this as her opportunity. She sprang out of hiding, pushing off the boulder strongly. She was almost jumping from rock to rock up the slope, looking for the insurgents. Their heads popped up eventually, the two of them looking shocked as she blitzed towards them. They began to fire at them, but she surrendered her body to her natural instincts, keeping herself one step ahead of the bullets. She kicked off the last rock hard, flipping through the air like a gymnast and landing behind the men. She slashed the two in the backs of their necks with her combat knives.

They weren’t alone. A third man was on the ground, looking through a scope. Smirking, she jumped on top of him almost supernaturally quickly and stabbed down through his back. His finger reflexively pulled the trigger, but his life was already ebbing away. Mukuro stood up, feeling victorious. She hustled back down to the rock where her comrade was.

She rounded the cliff to find the horrific scene. The ground behind them was splattered with blood. Blood was leaking across the ground heavily. The body of her comrade was keeled over, stomach up. The blood was still spurting out of him, meaning it was a fresh wound. Mukuro realized in horror that it might have been the bullet from the third insurgent. She ran over to him and sat, putting her finger on his neck. There was still a faint pulse. 

“M-Mukuro?” the soldier stumbled over her name. She’d never met him, hadn’t she? “I-is that you?”

“Yes. You’re going to be ok, soldier, just stay with me,” she said. The helmet just shook back and forth weakly. 

“N-no, I th-think this is m-my last r-rodeo,” he responded, coughing. He weakly reached with his hand, to try to grab hers. She pulled him closer and unclipped his helmet. He needed to breathe. She pulled off the helmet and found an even more horrific sight. 

She was looking at the pale, sweaty face of her boyfriend, Makoto Naegi.

“M-Makoto,” she stuttered. “No no no no no no no!” she said despairingly. She pulled out a compress from his side bag and began to press down on the wound. She looked around for something to tie it off with. Makoto smiled that beautiful smile of his, the one he had given her when they first met. 

“It’s o-ok M-Mukuro,” he said, his voice getting weaker. He reached his gloved hand up to stroke her cheek. She leaned into it, savoring any touch she could get. “I’m at p-peace. J-just d-don’t forget… a-about… m-me.” He trailed off as she could only watch in horror as the life drained out of his hazel eyes. 

“No.” Mukuro whispered as tears began to roll down her cheeks. “No no no no no! Makoto!” she cried out, clutching his body in her arms. She began to shake as her vision got blurry. It was over. The only man who’d ever looked at her beyond a piece of meat or as a mindless soldier was gone. How was he even in danger? It felt like her heart was about to burst out of her chest, as she cried and cried and cried.

*****

“Makoto!” Mukuro screamed as she woke up. She was shaking and soaked in sweat, the tears she had cried in her dreams beginning to stream down her face in real life too. In a flash, the man sleeping next to her awoke and wrapped his arms around her.

“It’s ok, Mukuro, I’m safe. I’m safe. You’re safe. We’re in our apartment,” Makoto said, holding her trembling body tightly, her tears wetting his shoulder. Mukuro threw her arms around him, squeezing for dear life. She couldn’t lose him. They stayed like this, Mukuro crying and trembling, Makoto comforting her, repeating “It’s ok, I’m here,” into her ear and rubbing her back soothingly. 

“Another nightmare?” Makoto asked as the tears began to subside. Mukuro nodded into his shoulder. He kissed her on the side of the head. “Do you want me to make some hot chocolate for us and we can talk about it?” Mukuro nodded. Makoto gently extricated himself and walked out of the room. Mukuro tried to do the deep breathing that her therapist had recommended. Her brain was racing at a mile a minute, but it started to calm as she breathed. Her keen ears could hear the beeping of the microwave, her boyfriend rummaging around in the cabinets, and eventually the hiss of the whipped cream can as he topped off the hot chocolate. She put the pillows up behind her, allowing her to prop herself up against the bed frame. 

Makoto walked back into the room, two mugs of hot chocolate in his hands. He gently handed her one, Mukuro taking it with two hands. She took a few sips as Makoto got situated on the bed himself. “So, another nightmare. Sounds like it involved me?”

“Y-yeah,” Mukuro said quietly. “We were in a firefight, and I-I got you killed.” She sniffled a bit and Makoto rested his hand on top of hers. 

“We don’t have to talk about it any more, if you don’t want to talk,” he said gently, and Mukuro smiled. They sat in silence, sipping hot chocolate. The sweet treat soothed her, reminded her of better days. Makoto always remembered to put marshmallows in it and top it with whipped cream. 

It hadn’t been easy, the first few nights they lived together. He had frozen the first time it happened, not knowing what to do with a screaming, trembling, crying girlfriend. That had been rough for the both of them. He couldn’t stop apologizing.

The next day, she’d found him reading an article about PTSD on his phone. He’d grabbed her hand, looked at her in the eyes, and said, _‘I’m sorry that I wasn’t good enough for you last night. I… I don’t know much about handling this stuff. But I want to learn. I want to learn to be the loving supporting boyfriend you need. I only hope you can forgive me for freezing when you needed me the most.’_ She’d launched herself into his arms, almost knocking him over. It was when she knew that she had found her other half. A person who genuinely cared about her, not her former other half, who didn’t seem to care either way. 

“Mukuro?” Makoto’s voice softly questioned. 

“Hm?” she said back, looking at him. 

“Oh, you were just staring off into space,” Makoto said, concerned. “What were you thinking about?”

Mukuro blushed furiously. “N-nothing!” she said, flustered. Makoto laughed a little while she gulped her hot chocolate, trying to hide her red face. When she finally set the mug down, Makoto had finished his and was wiping a whipped cream mustache off his upper lip. 

“I’m going to go run a shower for us. You should get out of those sweaty clothes,” Makoto said, slowly getting up and walking to the adjourning bathroom. She stood too. Her athletic shorts and loose t-shirt were sweaty. Silently, she peeled off the shirt and threw it into the laundry hamper. Sliding the shorts off, she slowly made her way over to the door, leaving them on the ground. 

Steam was already in the air, fogging up the mirror. Makoto had also stripped off, his pajamas neatly folded on the toilet seat. He pulled the shower curtain to the side, gesturing for her to step into the running shower. She blushed, obliging. 

Stepping under the hot water, she could feel some of the tension leave her shoulders. She moved over, allowing for Makoto to step in as well. Their height difference was always more pronounced in these moments, but Makoto never minded. He wasn’t one of those guys who needed to be taller than the girl he was dating to be confident. He smiled, tilting his head up slightly to look her in the eyes. “Feeling a little better?”

Mukuro met his shining hazel eyes. “Yeah, a little,” she replied. Makoto turned around and grabbed a bottle. Mukuro looked around for the green bottle of 5-in-1 shampoo that she normally used, but it had disappeared. Makoto tapped her and shook his head. 

“Not tonight. We’re gonna use some nice soap tonight,” he told her, smirking. 

“B-but I don’t need to use fancy soap,” Mukuro responded. Makoto shook his head as he poured some of the clear shampoo out into his hands. 

“It’s not fancy, it’s just a bit better. Let me take care of you,” he said. He placed his hands in her hair, his fingertips gently massaging her scalp, working the shampoo through her thick hair, sudsing it up. Mukuro felt a little strange with her hands just at her sides, so she stuck her arm out behind her, trying to find the detachable shower head. She managed to grasp it as Makoto finished with her hair. “Do you mind?” He held his hand out for the shower head. She gave it to him and turned away, letting him wash the shampoo off. She felt the hot water wash the soap down her body, rivulets of suds tracing down her front and back. 

She heard him place the shower head on the shower floor and squirt something else out of a bottle. His hands returned to her hair, running through it, covering it with another hair product. “Conditioner,” he said, as if he had read her mind. Perhaps all the time he had spent with Sayaka had rubbed off on him. 

He finished putting the conditioner in and began the process again, running the showerhead over her hair, allowing for the conditioner to wash off down her body. She had an idea of what was coming next, and she grabbed the next bottle of his in anticipation. She handed it to him. He looked at her gratefully. “Mind if I wash your body too?” 

“Of course not,” she said, lifting her arms up. He reached around her and put the showerhead back in its holder. He lathered up his hands with the body wash and began the slow process of working over her whole body. He started up at the shoulders, rubbing and working them while also applying the soap. He made his way down each arm carefully, making sure to soap every part he could. 

He ran his hands down her chest, pausing to cup each of her breasts, giving them a playful squeeze. She sighed breathily, but this wasn’t _that_ kind of shower. He moved onto her sides and lower torso, sliding his hands over her athletically toned body. The sensation of loving touch made her shiver. Makoto knelt before her and poured out more body wash. He clasped his hands around her strong thigh and began to run his hands down her smooth, unblemished legs. He repeated the process with the other leg, each time running the very top of her thigh. She got a little excited as the outside of his hand brushed between her legs, almost jumping a bit. She heard him give a little chuckle. He had her turn around and repeated the process with her back, rubbing it down, trying to press and relieve all her tension as he went. 

“Makoto…” she said, half to herself. He stood and laid a kiss on her cheek. The shower was already washing the soap away, but he grasped the handle anyways and rinsed off her body. She looked at him, her eyes half lipped. She felt like warm putty, as if she could just melt into a puddle. She didn’t even realize he was holding out a washcloth to her.

“Uh…” he stumbled, suddenly shy, “do you think you could handle the… other areas yourself?” She laughed and flicked some water at him.

“Yeah, no problem,” Mukuro responded, patting his only slightly wet hair. He went red at this, and made his way to get out of the shower. 

“I’ll shower again later. I’m going to swap the sheets on the bed,” he explained hurriedly before stepping out. Mukuro laughed a bit to herself as she finished the full body clean that he had done most of. His pajamas had disappeared by the time she stepped out. She rubbed a towel through her hair, then dried her legs off and wrapped the towel around her. 

Makoto had almost finished putting the new sheets on by the time that she walked into the bedroom. He quickly through the duvet over the top and smiled at her. Mukuro didn’t bother putting any clothes on, simply slinging the towel over the closet door and, making sure she wasn’t wet, getting under the covers. Makoto had opted to just go without a shirt before climbing into bed. Despite being the taller one, Mukuro cuddled up to him, and he wrapped his arms around her. On these nights, she always got to be the little spoon. 

“Thank you Makoto, for taking care of me,” she said sleepily. 

“It was my pleasure,” he replied, kissing her neck. “I love you, Mukuro Ikusaba.”

Mukuro felt herself get warm. “I love you too, Makoto Naegi.” A wave of tiredness washed over her, reminding her of exactly how late it was. Her eyes began to slowly close. Despite sleep being scary at times, she knew that things would be ok. She had Makoto, and she knew he would walk through hell or high water to help her, no matter what the cost. She fell asleep, and this time, it was a peaceful sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, check out my other works, and leave kudos and comments!


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